


Hunting Season

by asgardianthot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Dysfunctional Family, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Drama, Family Reunions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rich!Bucky, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asgardianthot/pseuds/asgardianthot
Summary: The Barnes family is your average rich people circus. With Bucky’s post-breakup financial depression, and a literal treasure hunt at stake, his best friend Sam finds himself in a mad situation in order to help him. They sure can pretend to be together, but that’s just the easy part.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You want some clichés? I’ll give you some clichés! Fake Dating, friends to lovers, asshole ex-boyfriend, only one bed, mutual pinning, slowburn, you name it :) Also rich!Bucky headcanon because I can.

**The night before.**

"What is it this time?" Sam answered the phone, preparing for the rant he was about to hear.

On the other end, Bucky sighed heavily.

"Everything?"

Sam kept his chuckle in as he poured the freshly cooked spaghetti on a plate.

"That's a new one." He rolled his eyes, "Is he still calling you or something?"

"Yeah, and... God, I think I might take him up on his offer."

Although his friend's tone was extremely off-putting, he knew him too well and was certain that Bucky wasn't being serious. He was just saying it to be dramatic because he felt trapped. Still, he needed to be reminded that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Wilson placed the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could take his meal to the table which was a few steps away from the actual kitchen zone.

"No, you won't." Sam reminded him.

"I might!"

Bucky didn't sound honest, but he sounded desperate. He had broken up with the world's biggest, most monumental jerk a hundred times before, yet for various financial and emotional reasons, Bucky had also returned to the man too many times. Sam knew there was an emotional bond, a toxic one, but never asked to what extent, he just made sure Bucky didn't fall back into his webs. Recently, though, it seemed as if he had come to his senses; hadn't picked up the phone when the devil's name came up on his screen for weeks, didn't even mention the master manipulator in a long time.

Sam sat at the small table and put his phone on speaker, next to his food.

"You can't just go back for his money, man."

"Well, I can't keep crashing at my parents’ house, either." Barnes replied with more anguish than Sam had expected.

He sounded like he was fed up with the whole living situation. Although the Barnes weren't necessarily bad, they were inherently overwhelming and controlling people with whom Bucky had already spent eighteen miserable years; Sam understood how downright exhausting it must be to go back to them for help, and he understood why he hated it there. He probably had just gotten into an argument, but Sam still felt empathy towards his poor friend, because Sam's parents were the nicest people on earth- sure, they pried and judged from time to time, but only the normal parental amount. He couldn't imagine growing up in the Barnes' house.

So instead of spurring out laments and empathic hums, he focused on finding Bucky a solution, reminding him there was a way out of the mansion-trap, "What about that job?"

"I didn't get it." There was a hearable stop, followed by a groan, "I don't know what else to do, I don't know how much longer I can stay here!"

As he worked his brain, Sam shoved a forkfull of spaghetti into his mouth, using the time he was chewing to concoct a quick solution. His friend just needed some caring aid, and Sam was good with home finances, he's good at being responsible and setting down instructions. He's a college professor after all, so giving orders and helping people in confusing times was wired into his bones.

He swallowed before speaking, "Tell you what, why don't you come over and we'll figure something out?"

-

Sam was just finished doing his single dish in his single apartment when Bucky got there. He opened the door and found the resemblance of a lost puppy.

"Thank you."

The host ushered him inside, and while Bucky closed the door behind him, Sam returned to the kitchen to finish putting everything away.

"Don't thank me yet. We need to come up with a plan." He turned to him with a mildly disappointing glance, for he was expecting a disappointing answer, "Just to be clear: no savings?"

"Nope." Bucky popped his 'p' with exaggerated defeat.

"Remind me to call you an idiot later."

"Will do." He nodded.

While Sam put away the now clean pan on the bottom counter, James found himself shame-walking to the table. He sat down, extended his arms over the furniture and let his head drop with self-pity.

"What about your folks, are they really not willing to help out?" Sam tried.

"They won't give me a _single_ penny."

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

As soon as Wilson headed towards his friend, he noticed Bucky was waiting for him to be able to stay one hundred percent attentive. He was fidgeting with his fingers and bouncing his leg up and down, looking way too nervous for being around Sam, his best friend whom he trusted more than anyone. So, Sam got the severity of the issue and sat down on the table with him.

"Listen." Bucky began, although he missed Sam's eye contact on purpose, "I was thinking... and I know that you've already supported me enough, but maybe... you could, uh... Lend me some money?" Suddenly, his face contorted in anguish as he was clearly embarrassed to even ask; before Sam could respond, he started rambling, "Just to get my own place, and I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I get some stability."

Sam tilted his head with sympathy.

"Of course I can lend you some money. But it's still a risky shot, dude."

Seeing him shrug, Sam noticed the evident sadness and surrender in James' face, and Sam wondered if it had been the devil ex or the Barnes who had sucked the hope out of him.

"It's all I got. I can't stand my parents any longer."

Sam nodded, and they fell into some silence. The discomfort coming from Bucky's end of the table was palpable, so Sam attempted to ease some of the tension.

"You can always just leave the country and go live with your sister." He joked.

The way Bucky looked at him with a small smile, Sam could read the gratefulness in his eyes.

"Nah, I could never leave you." Barnes taunted back, "You'd crumble."

"Yeah, that's it." Sam looked away with lifted, disbelieving eyebrows, "Definitely not the other way around."

He got a chuckle out of his best friend, and in comparison to the glim aura that had been surrounding him the last minutes, it was a relieving sound

" 'sides, she wouldn't get off my back either." Bucky added, "Rebecca's not an option."

Once again, silence dropped on them, only this time it was a pensive one. It didn't take long for Sam to have the best idea he'd had yet.

"Drink?" He offered.

" _Please_."

-

"I'm telling you, I can't seem to do anything right." Bucky admitted in between sips of wine, "The more I try to fix my shit, the more I mess it up, and _that's_ Brock's cue to jump right back into the picture and offer an easy way out."

"You can't let him control you." His friend reminded him, "You're better than that."

Bucky had heard that speech a hundred times, and a hundred times he had lowered his head with shameful agreement, like a toddler being reprimanded and responding with the generic _You're right, I'll do better._ However, this time, Barnes was honest. Too honest, for Sam's taste, actually. Staring into nothingness as if illuminated by some divine realization of disappointment, he clacked his tongue.

"See, I don't know that I am."

Sam, on his part, was having none of that, "Yes, you are. You've just made some very questionable choices." He slurred, and only then did Bucky realize how drunk his friend had gotten over the past hour, "And you wanna know why?"

With the last question went a very unpreoccupied hand gesture, employing the hand which held the glass of red wine like he'd forgotten the wine was even there, and therefore almost spilling it all over his carpet.

Bucky cringed and reached for the now turned dangerous beverage.

"I think that's enough wine for you." He laughed, trying to pry the glass away.

"Because you never listen to me!" Sam ignored him, which was Bucky's cue to effectively grab it and leave it on the coffee table, "I told you not to let him pay for stuff in the first place. Told you if he owns everything you share, he owns _you_."

The words, Bucky remembered from many times prior. The harsh tone, though, was relatively new.

"It just sort of happened." He shrugged, "I lost my job and suddenly..."

As Bucky lost his trail, Sam filled in with amusement, "You became a housewife from, like, the 1950's."

Barnes smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood, and escape the current lecture he was receiving, "Why is that bad?"

Unfortunately for him, Sam was not playing along, "Because you can't hand them your independence. Not to your parents, not to _Brock Fucking Rumlow_ , not to _anyone_. You know what's worth more than money?"

"Let me guess, my freedom?"

"Your dignity." Sam laid out the words with much more seriousness any drunk man should be able to convey.

Silence followed the rough declaration, and Bucky sat back. He pursed his lips at the ground, feeling even more judged in that apartment than in his parents' house. At least, they nagged about things that were insignificant to him, but what Sam had just dropped was a truth-bomb that resonated with his deepest concerns.

"That hurt." He admitted.

He wasn't upset, and even less with Sam. This was what he needed to hear, after all, and he could always trust Sam to be responsible and hones, but that didn't mean he would sleep on that sentence until he made some real changes in his life.

"It's just the truth." Sam grinned with somewhat lament as he reached for more wine.

-

**The day of.**

Sam woke up the next morning with the smell of fresh breakfast, and a hangover. When he managed to get on his feet, he walked down to the living room, where he found Bucky preparing something in the kitchen. Last night's events came back to him at the sight of his face: his cry for help, one late night talk and lots of wine. That's pretty much all that came to mind, which made him wonder what his drunk persona had put Bucky through.

"Morning, pal!" The voice made him jump a bit.

Bucky seemed cheery, which meant that he'd woken up hangover-free, and that _drunk Sam_ hadn't been a pain in his ass. Sam felt he could relax.

"Did I really pass out on red wine in my own couch?" he groaned, scratching the back of his head.

Walking closer, he recognized what Bucky was preparing as french toasts, and his rumbling stomach felt grateful.

"Like a grandpa." Bucky confirmed with a mocking tone.

" _Jesus Christ_." Sam sighed.

"Don't let your dad hear you say the Lord's name in vain."

The warning reminded Sam of Bucky's parental situation. Bucky was one of Sam’s few friends who knew Sam's parents, and they'd gotten along many times, whereas Sam had never even met the Barnes. He knew Rebecca, but that was about it, and he figured they must be real characters if Bucky kept them away from him.

Sam let his body fall flat onto the couch, and covered his eyes with his arm rather dramatically, "I'm slowly spiraling down into a mediocre professor's life."

"You're not a mediocre professor and you don't have a mediocre life." Bucky denied him the right to self-loathe.

"I disagree. Your problems are the highlight of my week."

"Stop moaning and eat up."

As Sam raised his arm to peak, he found a plate of french toasts and a cup of orange juice being offered to him.

He gave Bucky a look of ultimate gratefulness as he mumbled a _thank you_ and received the food.

Suddenly he appreciated more than ever that his friend was good at cooking, even though it probably came from a tragic backstory like his many childhood maids taught him in order to replace the absence of his parents or something.

"Least I could do." Bucky reckoned, meaning the fact that Sam had welcomed him into his home and offered to help him with his financial situation, "This, and dragging you to bed last night."

Sam visibly cringed before taking a big bite, "Did I say really dumb stuff?"

Bucky reflected on that idea for a hot second. Sam had, as a matter of fact, spilled out some truths, but Bucky didn't want to embarrass him, so he simply let it go.

He chuckled instead, "Nah, just the usual stupidity."

On his way to prepare some coffee, he checked his phone and noticed he'd received a text: _we need to talk._

-

He knew what this was about. Which was the reason why he told his parents to meet him for lunch, some place they would approve of, after he'd had time to tidy up and borrow some of Sam's clothes. All just to minimize the judgement he was about to endure.

As soon as he sat down on the restaurant table, Barnes father hit him with that familiar severity, "Where did you spend the night?"

"A hotel room." Bucky replied.

"You can't afford one."

"And I have _you_ to thank for that." The tone quickly shifted to one of mutual accusations, "You're the one who cancelled all my cards."

" _James._ " His mother joined the conversation in an attempt to get Bucky to lower said tone.

"It’s fine. I'm gonna crash at a friend's house.” Bucky directed the eased words to his mother, "Until I get on my own feet- _which I will._ "

"A friend?" the dad interrupted, "Is that what you're doing now to pay for a roof over your head?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows, unamused, "Are you calling me a whore?"

"James, your father and I are worried." The woman reached over the table for her son's hands, "We want you to get yourself out of this... low spot. And last night, you proved your immaturity to us by throwing a tantrum and running away."

"Wasn't a tantrum." James retrieved his hands from his mother's grasp, "Look, if you're not going to help me out financially, then I see no reason to indulge your criticism. Otherwise it's just free abuse."

The older man rolled his eyes, "Always the drama king."

A cloud of silence fell upon the three people, thankfully soon joined by a waitress who took their orders. After they all delivered their monotone words and handed the lady their menus, Barnes father went back to the same topic.

"So, who's paying for your stuff?"

Bucky sat back on his chair, "Oh, we're still on that."

"Just wanna know how much I owe the poor soul. You keep forcing your financial situation on people, you're gonna run out of friends."

Eventually, James found himself in a tight spot. Whatever answer he gave his father, the man wouldn't be satisfied. His own son begging for money was beyond simple disappointment. The only time George Barnes had approved of Bucky depending on someone was when Brock Rumlow owned his life, because Brock was a family friend and a _fine young man_. Naturally, an opportunity popped into Bucky's head.

"Well, he's not a friend." He announced, earning attentive looks from both his parents, "He's, uh... we're a couple. He's not lending me money, we're sort of... living together."

Something in their eyes told Bucky they weren't buying it.

"Since when?" the mother asked.

"It's been sporadic. But we're stable."

George Barnes narrowed his eyes, "I take it it's not Rumlow."

"No, I told you, that's over." Bucky shook his head.

"Then I wanna meet this guy."

"Oh, invite him over to Nana's." The woman clapped her hands together.

The simple thought of the upcoming family vacation made him lose his appetite. Every year during spring break, the Barnes would get together for some quality time at their grandparents’ lake house. Bucky figured that this year, he probably would spend one or two weeks there before he could manage an excuse to leave. That was before he made up a fictional boyfriend, though, and the biggest problem was _he didn’t have_ a boyfriend to bring.

"He has plans for the break." He lied.

Winnifred gave him a look that yelled incomprehension, as if she was incapable of fathoming the idea of someone not wanting to join their plans. "He can cancel them, he'll have more fun at the lake house anyways!"

"It's just that-"

"He'd love it.” Her voice began doing that thing where she sounded like she was genuinely begging, instead of simply manipulating, “And maybe you two could win Nana's hunt this year."

Now that caught Bucky’s attention. That actually made him reconsider everything. The Barnes had some very odd traditions, some Bucky loved and some he despised; but there was one in particular he had very mixed sentiments about, and which now presented itself like lifeboat.

"Right. The hunt." He trailed off, contemplating the possibility of participating in the godforsaken annual hunt.

"So what's he do?" His father’s words snapped him back.

"Huh?"

"Your boyfriend. What does he do?"

Bucky swallowed hard. In a moment of complete panic, his blank mind went to the easiest way out: the person who had actually offered his house to him for the night. Sam’s occupation was the only thing that popped into his head.

"He's a... professor.” He blurted out without much thought, “University."

"That's lovely." His mother approved.

 _Shit_. It only then occurred to him that he was _effectively_ making up a boyfriend, job and all, which meant he certainly couldn’t get away from it now. And it would only get worse as he dug into his lie deeper and deeper.

"What do I call him?" the older man asked.

Once again, Bucky found himself gulping.

-

"You told them what?!" Sam exclaimed.

Bucky sat with his head down in shame, while Sam paced around his own apartment, furiously.

"I'm sorry." Barnes said truthfully.

"You could've dragged anyone along with your dumb plans.” Sam ignored him and continued scolding him, “Why me?"

The appellee sighed, "It was an ambush, Sam, you should've seen it."

"I don't care!"

"They were asking me all these questions, it felt like a fucking quizz!” Bucky’s lamenting state turned much more hectic as he tried to explain his actions, “I panicked, I don't know, it just came out."

A big breath of disappointment shook Sam’s chest. Of course, he tried to understand Bucky when it came to his family. He did his best. But this was too much, for now that pressure had been transported to Sam. The weight relied on Sam’s shoulders as a whole. Still, he figured there was no way out of the hole Bucky had dug for the both of us. If the Barnes thought Sam was their son’s boyfriend, then that’s what he was. At least, until Bucky found an exit for both of them.

Reflecting on how this would be the last favor he would ever do for his friend, and at the same time acknowledging that was just a lie he told himself, Sam sat next to Bucky, who seemed expectant of more judgement. Much to his surprise, Sam’s words weren’t harsh.

"I take it they wanna meet the boyfriend." He said, a lot more nonchalantly than either of them expected.

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes, "Shit, are you serious? Would you do that for me?"

"Yeah, wouldn't be the first time I get you out of trouble." Sam ran a hand down his face.

"Sam, you’re-“

"The best, I know.” Wilson glanced up at the ceiling for strength, laying back on his couch, “So when do we have to put on a show?"

There was a brief silence, only interrupted by the sound of Bucky’s fingernails scratching the back of his head, which dropped another wave of tension upon the pair.

"That's the thing." Bucky cringed.

" _What's_ the thing?"

"You know my family's lake house?" He tempted.

"No. No, no, no!” Sam found himself standing up at the mere thought of what he knew he was being asked, “I am _not_ going to the middle of _rich nowhere_ with you and your folks."

"It would only be a week.” Bucky raised his voice with a plea, earning a look of disbelief from Sam who felt like _a week_ was not worthy of being introduced by the word ‘only’, “But, with a bunch of family members."

Samuel shook his head, clear disbelief plastered on his features, "You don't realize how insane you sound right now."

"Hear me out, this is a good thing. Just... _listen_.” Bucky raised his hands in defense, “You know how my grandfather left his fortune to Nana?”

Doing his absolute best to stay open-minded, Sam nodded. Perhaps Bucky was headed somewhere with his explanation.

“Well, she has this... odd way of getting rid of it."

"The hell you talking about?" Sam frowned, growing inpatient.

"I never told you ‘cause it made me sound even more of a trust fund baby."

"Which you are."

"Point taken.” Bucky tilted his head with acceptance before he continued, “But this is good for both of us. She hates giving out her money, but she has no use for it, so she... makes it into a game every year."

Sam remained quiet, becoming more and more upset because he started getting an idea of what this was about: money and his family’s eccentric behaviors. And of course, Bucky meant to bring Sam into both of those things.

"I hate your family."

Bucky couldn’t hold back a tiny smirk, "You won't when you find out how much the prize is."

Suddenly, Sam found himself considering the offer. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm listening." He said, unprepared for the number he was about to hear.

"Four _million_ dollars.” Bucky laid out like he was pitching him a job offer, which, in some twisted way, it was, “We split it, I can get back on my own feet, gain my independence... and you get two millions for being such a good friend."

The amount of money was too much for a family game. The idea sounded too ridiculous for any normal family. But then again, these were the Barnes. Therefore, while Sam was having a hard time processing the information, he blinked fast, maintaining eye contact with Bucky, almost as if waiting for his friend to break character and reveal that this was all a joke.

"Two million dollars?" Sam confirmed.

"Two million each." Bucky nodded, expectant.

Sam had to sit back down, but not next to Bucky this time. He sat on the coffee table, still digesting it. The prize was more than what he made in a year. And it really seemed like this was Bucky’s best solution to all his problems.

"And it's a game?" Sam asked with that same cautious tone.

"Yeah, it's a... treasure hunt.” Barnes shrugged, “With, like, challenges and stuff. She cooks up the entire thing in her twisted little mind."

Sam nodded, at nothing really, but just as a manner of expressing that he had processed everything properly, "But we'd have to pretend for a full week and actually win the thing."

"Nana loves me, 've always been her favorite. You butter her up, she'll give us the cheats. Make it easy for us."

The man nodded again, this time with purpose, "Okay."

"Okay?" Bucky raised his eyebrows with hope.

" _Okay_." Sam raised his voice before he could regret the choice, "Let's get this prize."


	2. Chapter 2

"So how do we do this?" Sam asked.

He was brushing his teeth with the door open so he could glance at Bucky, who sat on the edge of Sam's bed. He was going to give his friend the bed back once they fully decided to go to sleep and Bucky took the couch, again, but for now, he was enjoying the comfort of a bedroom. He always did find comfort in Sam and his hospitality, after all. He remembered that one Christmas the Barnes spent in the French Alps, the one Bucky avoided because he had just broken up with Rumlow for the first time; Sam was kind enough to invite him to the Wilsons for the holidays, and that was when Bucky realized where his friend got his charm and kindness. Sam's entire family were the most welcoming people Bucky had ever encountered, which made him wish _he_ had been born into a home like that.

As Sam spit the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, Bucky thought of the specificities of their plan. At the realization that, if his parents had sat through several different relationships with the same Brock Rumlow, they probably wouldn't blink at the sight of a new man, he felt that the plan wouldn't be too complicated after all.

"I don't know." He shrugged, "Can you pretend to be gay?"

While Bucky's question was asked nonchalantly, Sam received it like a suckerpunch. It was supposed to be an easy answer, however the topic was a delicate one for Sam. Not that Bucky knew anything about it, but Sam kept a few secrets to himself. And since his friend had only ever seen him dating girls...

"Easy peasy." Sam faked a smile before cleaning his chin with a clean towel, "It's pretending I like you that's gonna be tough." He joked.

"Funny." Bucky said without a hint of amusement.

Eventually, Sam returned to his original concerns. The stakes weren't too high for him, but if Bucky got caught with this, he would never hear the end of it. Who knew what his parents would put him through, and Bucky had already mentioned something about being banned from the annual hunt for life, losing all hopes of ever getting the slightest fraction of Nana's money. Those two million dollars could mean everything to Bucky, so they _really_ had to put on a show.

He walked back to his room and gestured his guest to give him some room, next to him. Bucky granted him the space, and they both sat in their own seriousness.

"No, but seriously, do we have to kiss and stuff?" Sam asked.

Bucky reflected on it.

"Maybe. I mean, we gotta make it believable."

The other man nodded, taking in the idea of kissing Bucky, even if just for an act, until Bucky's words caught him by surprise.

"Wanna practice?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, and cleared his throat with nervousness, "Uh, sure."

Nevertheless, he was met by a very amused Bucky, who happened to have been holding in his laughter. When he cracked up, falling back on the bed with pride on his own joke, Sam de-tensed.

"I'm kidding, dude." He threw a light punch to Sam's back, "We pro'ly won't even kiss through the entire week. Family's real uptight when they wanna be."

Sam let out a breath only he could hear, hopefully, and pretended to be comfortable with the entire situation.

"Okay, but if we _do_ have to kiss, it better look real."

**Day 1.**

The time had come, and spirits weren't great. Sam had his shit together, luckily, but Bucky wasn't as confident. In the ride from the station to the lake house, they both sat at the back of the taxi, trying to prepare for the upcoming week. Eight full days of acting couldn't be too easy, but Sam was calm.

James looked the polar opposite, as he tried to keep his cool, mumbling to himself.

"Deep breaths." He told Sam like he was doing the calming for both of them, and it brought a small smirk to Sam's lips.

He watched his friend breathe in and out with his eyes closed, and he feared he might have a mental breakdown before they even got the chance to reach the house.

"Hey, I got this." He reminded Bucky, in attempts to ease his worries.

"God, I really hope you do."

Suddenly, the panoramic of the gigantic residence came to their field of vision. The two-story house had direct access to the lake, along with stored kayaks and sailing equipment. There was a sailing boat floating there, unused, marking the family's possessions, and facing the big garden that separated the house from the water.

As soon as the vehicle stopped in the entrance, an employee came out to take care of their bags. Sam gave Bucky an odd look, himself not being used to maids and _being served_ like that, to which Bucky only pressed his lips together. _That's the Barnes way._

"Oh, come inside!" Bucky's mother welcomed them, ushering them inside.

They both obeyed and walked up the three steps to the door, finally entering the house. Before either of them got the chance to speak, though, Winnifred began theatricalizing.

"You poor things, it's so hot outside!" She lamented while pressing a hand to her chest.

Bucky tried, and failed, to reject her drama, "It's not that-"

"You must be Samuel." She ignored her son, and continued to ramble over Sam's attempts to at least say hello, "You want a drink? It's too hot."

The guest eyed Bucky, who was just staring into nothingness. If his eyes could speak, they would have been saying 'yep, sounds about right.'

"Uh, sure." Sam accepted, "Thank you, ma'am. I'm so glad-"

"There he is!" He was cut off by Bucky's father, who walked into the welcoming hall with his arms extended, "The man of the hour."

The two men shook hands.

"Sir." Sam nodded.

"Oh, please, it's George."

Sam opened his mouth to say something polite, when the woman interrupted him once more.

"And Winnifred." She added.

This time, Sam waited for a gap in the conversation. He hadn't been able to lay out a single sentence to the married couple, so he awkwardly waited for them to interrupt him, but when the silence extended for too long, he smiled, nervously.

"George and Winnifred, then." He agreed, nodding, "It's nice to meet you."

"James tells me you teach." Winnifred jumped right into the discussion.

"I do." Sam smiled, "History."

"Which school?"

"Mom, don't be a snob." Bucky warned her.

"I'm just asking him a question." She pledged innocence, as usual.

As much as the question of academic elitism bothered Sam, he had to remain polite. He hated gratifying rich people like that by disclosing the snob university where he worked. Sometimes he wanted to quit and go back to where he started, small high schools, poorly funded programs... for now, though, he had unpaid student debt and a two million dollar hunt to win.

"It's alright." He bit back his pride and dismissed it, "I'm teaching at Princeton right now."

Winnifred raised her eyebrows with one half excitement and one half surprise, "That's a fine school." She showed how impressed she was.

The woman probably thought Bucky couldn't do better than the _family friend business trash_. She probably figured her son was too stupid for a Princeton professor, much less to settle down with one. It didn't add to the bad image Sam already had of her.

"I have some contacts in Harvard, could get you a spot." George butt in.

" _Dad_."

"Thank you, sir, that's not necessary." Sam rejected _very_ gracefully, "I love my job and I certainly can't leave my students."

George gave him a respectful nod, while Winnifred gave his son a look, one that yelled _well done_. The interaction had gone better than any of them had expected, making Bucky forget every concern he had before. When they moved to the living room, which was right next door, the fake couple exchanged some victorious glances. Feeling much more confident now, Bucky pointed to the old lady sitting at the end of the room.

"Sam, I'm honored to introduce you to Nana Barnes." He dramatized in order to annoy the woman.

She looked like the kind of grandmother who had strong opinions on people and therefore, favorites, and Bucky sure acted like the favorite, teasing her with the confidence that she wouldn't mind. Nana didn't bother standing up. She was wearing a conservative black dress, reading glasses and she held a glass of Champaign on her hand. The matriarch look suited her wonderfully.

"I've heard many good things." Sam approached her, extending his hand.

While shaking the young man's hand, Nana eyed him up and down.

"You're handsome." She said in a powerful tone, "Much better looking than the last one."

Nervously, Sam fixed his tie and cleared his throat.

"Thank you." He frowned amusingly, not sure if he was meant to take the compliment or not.

"Are you an idiot like him?"

Sam tilted his head, "Excuse me?"

"That Rumlow boy, he was an ass. Couldn't tell his south from his north

Now, are you a smart man?"

Sam looked back at Bucky, who merely gave him a thumbs up as he backed away and left the two alone. It was only then that Sam noticed Bucky's parents had abandoned him as well. He accepted his situation, and sat down on the chair next to her.

"I... like to think so." He smiled, "I sure hope so, or else I'm teaching the next generation to be just as dumb."

"Ah, so I've heard." She spoke like it was the first thing she fully approved of, "It's a nice break from all the _dull_ business men in our family. Is Jamie planning to live off your Princeton check?"

This time, the harsh question caught him less off-guard, "No, ma'am, I'm just helping him get back on his feet."

The lady narrowed her eyes like she was quizzing the new boyfriend, "How long have you known my grandson?"

The fake couple had prepared a whole concocted tale, but right there, in front of the matriarch who worshipped the truth, he figured telling her the real story wouldn't hurt.

"I don't even know. Probably... six years?" The realness behind his words made Nana seem interested, "We met through other people, next thing I know we're best friends for good. Couldn't shake him off my back."

The woman laughed, "He can't help it, the Barnes have bloodsucker in their DNA."

Bucky had mentioned at some point, how the woman referred to the Barnes as simply the family she had married into when it came to pointing out their flaws, yet called herself a Barnes when it suited her. Sam, however, held in any type of snarky comment or laughter, and made an effort to remain excessively polite. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the façade for long, or at least not for the entire week, so he made sure to make the best first impression possible.

"No, Bucky's not like that.” He defended the man, although he immediately decided against contradicting the matriarch; he raised one hand in retreat, “I mean, you've known him all his life, so what do I know? But, uh… he's not that kind of friend."

The last word brought a smear of annoyance to the woman’s features, considering Sam had used it twice already, "You can say _boyfriend_ , Samuel, I'm not a prude." She protested.

Suddenly, Sam realized he was being too genuine. The way he spoke about Bucky was so truthful, he forgot for a second that he was meant to pretend to be his loving partner.

"Yes, boyfriend. Sorry."

In the welcoming hall, Bucky was thanking the service for getting his bags upstairs. He noticed a taxi parked outside, and he figured his cousin or one of his uncles had arrived, but as he wiped sweat from his forehead, the door opened, and his sister Rebecca walked in. As to be expected, she was dressed to impress in a light blue skirt and a sunny hat, wearing the additional drops of sweat that fell down her neck like an accessory.

"What are you doing here?” Bucky ambushed her, not too happy to see her, “You said you wouldn't make it."

The young woman didn’t seem offended by her welcoming, for she knew she was about to lie. "I decided to spend some time with my family." She smiled brightly, reaching to hug her brother.

" _Bull_.” He stopped her, “What happened?"

Rebecca sighed. "Why do you always assume something's happened?"

"Because I'm the one picking up your slacks and shoving it under the rug." Bucky spat, looking around to check that nobody was listening.

"My hero." She rolled her eyes.

"Someone has to keep making you look perfect."

The words hit her, but she didn’t wince. Her face fell minimally, which was her own way of accepting it. Bucky was right, after all, because for years he had helped her out in every singl one of her fuck-ups, never asking for anything back, which resulted in their parents beliving their little girl to be a practical angel, while James remained the family screw up. The thing was, both siblings were emotional trainwrecks, but Bucky was the only one who got any backlash for it.

"So what was it?” He asked again, this time much more relaxed, “Boyfriend? Boyfriend's wife?"

"Actually...” Rebecca lowered her voice, “It's money. I need to win the hunt this year."

Bucky couldn’t believe his ears. Rebecca had only joined the family vacations to ruin his plans.

" _I_ need to win the hunt this year." He was quick to shake his head.

"You don't understand, I owe a shit ton or money, James.” Unfortunately, his sister was just as enthusiastic about her own issues. “It's bad."

"Then get a loan from dad." He proposed in a very order-like tone, for he knew their father would give _Rebecca_ money, while never offering Bucky a penny.

"He can't know I'm in debt!" She whisper-shouted.

Bucky took a deep breath and massaged his temples, still in disbelief that they were in this situation to begin with. _He had brought his best friend into this, for all sakes._ He couldn’t lose the money to his little sister. He wanted to explain to her how he was penny-less and had been enduring their parent’s hellfire for weeks, but Rebecca already knew that, and if that alone didn’t bring out her empathy, no amount of persuasion would. He wanted to tell her exactly what kind of treatment he had received in their parent’s house, but of course, Rebecca must have already guessed.

As much as he wanted to keep fighting, Sam joined them, and the two siblings were distracted from the argument.

"Samuel Wilson, why on earth are you in this shithole?"

Sam was baffled, as they hadn’t even spent half an hour there, and things were already not going according to plan. Bucky had sworn Rebecca wouldn’t be there, which was good, because Rebecca knew Sam and she knew that their relationship was not at all romantic.

"Good to see you too." He said, trying his best to ignore her obvious confusion and walking closer to Bucky, "Uh, your folks-"

"Sweetheart, you made it!" Winnifred’s exclamation echoed across the room.

"Of course, mama." Rebecca faked enthusiasm as she opened her arms.

"I see you've met Jamie's boyfriend." The siblings’ mother remarked as she gave Rebecca a quick hug.

Even before the contact was over, Rebecca was frowning, "Boyfriend?"

_Think, quickly._

"Yes, _boyfriend_. “ Bucky said loudly; perhaps too loudly to be believable, “We didn't wanna say. Thanks for ruining the newsbreak, mom." He faked discourage.

Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest, "No, you're not."

Desperate to play it out, Sam pressed a hand to the low of Bucky’s back, in an attempt to show affection and commodity with one another. Bucky, however, froze a little, because it was the first time Sam had done something like that and it felt more than just odd.

"We sure are." Sam grinned.

"Yeah, it just..." Bucky failed to imitate his fake boyfriend’s confidence as he scratched his brow and struggled with words. "Just sort of happened. We were going to tell you."

The room went silent, and Rebecca definitely wasn’t convinced. In fact, she saw straight through both of them and deciphered the truth behind the masquerade in a matter of seconds, which didn’t amuse her at all. They were going to take her prize away.

"Bucky's cheating." She said.

"Excuse me?” Winnifred opened her eyes wide, offended at what the accusation implied.

"At the hunt.” The young woman continued, earning a pleading look from her brother, who begged her not to out his lies; thankfully, she proceeded with a mocking tone, “He knows Nana's biased for couples, so he dragged his boyfriend to this freakshow."

Both Sam and Bucky felt like they had been given a second life, and they quickly laughed it off to dissimulate. Winnifred made a comment about her daughter’s choice of words while they all moved back to the living room, and although what had just happened was a sign that Rebecca wouldn’t out them, all three involved never got their eyes off each other.

-

Dinnertime was an event for the whole family. Others had arrived with their own luggage, setting three different generations in one table. Sam could only feel how strongly out of place he was, among the fancy drinks and conversations about business and family companies. He was learning a hell of a lot about Bucky’s family, though. The fortune was earned by the parents of the deceased grandfather, and he had been the one to ‘make them all rich assholes’, according to Bucky’s words.

"Aside from us and Becca, everyone here just wants to win the hunt for their ego.” He explained in whispers, leaning closer to Sam to not be overheard by the rest of the family. “It's just a fun tradition to them."

"I bet it's fun to get four millions a year." Sam snorted quietly.

It made Bucky laugh, which got the attention of his aunt. She eyed the couple like _they were just so cute together_ , and it only then occurred to Bucky that maybe they did.

"Oh, I forgot about Uncle Milo.” He gestured to an old and nice-looking man at the other end of the table, “Grandpa Theodore's brother, he's after the fortune."

Sam didn’t believe his friend, for it sounded like cliché rich family drama, something out of a soap opera. However, the young Barnes explained that the cliché was real, and that Uncle Milo had gambled his share of the fortune away, so he maintained his proximity to Nana in a desperate attempt to get it all back, the money, the house, everything. He soon continued explaining the rest of the less relevant characters: George's brother Teddy and his wife Andrea, who had a son about their age; _cousin Colin_. He was a dull creature and he looked like he'd come out of a Lacoste magazine, both him and his Ivy-league-college-sweetheart fiancée did. The third Barnes sibling was Aunt Ida, who had no children but was happily divorced.

“Are we all done with desert?” Nana stood up from her chair.

Cousin Colin raised his fork to speak and say that he hadn’t, but Nana didn’t seem to care.

“Wonderful. Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“No speech, Nana?” Bucky teased her.

“No, you’re all well aware. Except for Samuel, but he’s a smart man, he’ll catch up.” She winked at him.

That was apparently a good sign. She liked Sam.

“The first clue is very easy: just the meaning behind it all.” The woman chuckled at the end of her sentence, earning a few confused looks, “I didn’t hide it very well. You’ll find it if you search for it.”

Every guest remained seated. Knowing the woman, she wasn’t kidding, and this was just a riddle they were supposed to decipher, but they never failed to give her the benefit of the doubt that perhaps, just maybe one time, she would give them a real clue instead of messing with them as much as she could.

Nana raised her glass of champaign as a toast, “Happy Hunting.” She smirked to the glass before chugging it down.

-

They seemed to be walking around aimlessly, just as the rest of the _participants_. This sounded like more of a mental riddle to fix by themselves, instead of an actual clue that was hidden somewhere. Bucky had the idea to look around grandpa Theodore’s old room in search for something emotional, although that didn’t sound like Nana, but she _had_ told them to look for the meaning behind it all- she could have meant the meaning of the hunt.

When Sam’s brain clicked, he grabbed Bucky’s arm to stop him, "I got an idea." He announced.

Bucky glanced down at his arm, which was still being held by Sam.

"What're you thinking?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you guys have a library?"

Bucky nodded, "Smart."

Once they found the library, they were submerged in stillness. They shut the door so they wouldn’t give anyone else the same idea, and turned on the lights; the room was probably the calmest one in the entire house. There were high shelves with old books, two dusty reading chairs and a coffee table. Sam figured he wouldn’t mind spending some time there.

"What are we looking for?" James asked in a low voice.

Sam ran his fingers through the shelves for a few seconds, lurking for that one specific piece of literature he had in mind.

“Viktor Frankl.” Sam mumbled, concentrated on his task.

When he found the title, he pulled the book out and offered it to Bucky. _Man’s search for meaning, 1946._ It was too classical for fancy college men not to have heard of it, but the riddle was a tad too complicated for them. It was as if Nana had expected Sam to guess it first. Bucky caressed the cover, taking in the title and internally understanding the joke. _The meaning behind it all. You’ll find it if you search for it._

He let a soft chuckle escape his lips as he opened the book and searched through the pages. Sam leaned in too close, over his shoulder, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel weird at the sensation of Sam’s breath hitting the back of his neck. He didn’t believe it was okay to even notice that sort of thing.

Suddenly, an envelope fell from the book, and Bucky looked back at Sam with amusement, “That tricky old hag.” He laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn’t too exciting lol but it was more of an introduction chapter:/ next part will have your much needed fluff and intensity! Thank you so much for reading xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shitty guy has entered the chat. You know who.

Bedtime had come, and Sam followed Bucky to their assigned room. It was, apparently, the one he had been using ever since he and Rebecca were old enough to stop sharing bunk beds. When Rumlow came into the picture, the family allowed the _jolly couple_ to share the queen-sized bed. Hence, that was the set-up for Sam and Bucky.

"Yeah, I forgot to mention." Bucky apologized as they shut the door behind them.

The entire house seemed to have gone silent at that time of the night, making them feel like they should speak in a lower tone than usual.

"It's fine." Sam brushed it off while he kicked off his shoes near the door.

"Nah, man, I can sleep on the divan." Bucky shook his head, "I'll go get some blankets."

The last thing he wanted was to put Sam in any more uncomfortable situations. He was already in the most uncomfortable position anyone could ask of their friend, and Bucky felt guilty every single second of their stay, which had only lasted for less than a day so far.

"Dude, it's _fine_." Sam insisted, "Not like we've never shared a bed before."

Although they effectively had spent a number of after-parties in the same bed or the same couch, this setup felt a lot more intimate, somehow. Maybe it was the silk sheets, or the elegant shade of white which adorned the room, or the dim nightstand lights that made it all feel so cozy. Maybe it had to do with the fact that that's how boyfriends sleep, and them having to pretend to have that dynamic. Still, Sam wouldn't agree to Bucky's solution.

"Yeah, but it's _seven_ nights." Bucky reminded him with a wince.

"If I get tired of you I'll send your ass to the divan." Sam ended the topic with that, stretching his arms to communicate his deep need of going to bed already, "I just wanna get some sleep, it's been a long* day."

Bucky snorted, "I told you." He smirked as he opened his bag to find his pajamas.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed. He had, in fact, agreed to this insanity. Clues and riddles and family drama and money*. He was there to help his best friend through a tough time, and that was his primary concern, but if he ever got too tired of the Barnes' crap, he could always remember the gold at the end of the rainbow. He let a loud sigh, almost like he was finally dropping off the weight of the 'boyfriend' act, and allowing himself to look exhausted. He dramatically dropped to the bed on his back.

"Two millions, right?" he raised an eyebrow at Bucky.

The appellee nodded, "Two millions."

-

**Day 2**

One of the many responsibilities the Barnes family had was continuously being good guests, which meant inviting relatives and neighbors and co-workers to spend a day or two in the lake house. Most of them had their own vacation residence nearby, or were vacation-buddies who could hop on their boats and grab lunch with the Barnes. Only a few guests would actually join the house accommodations and spend time with them. It was the case of a friend of Nana, one of Colin's co-workers, Aunt Ida's new boyfriend and distant cousin who would be spending the night, according to what Winnifred said during breakfast.

Sam had a hard time processing the fact that they had all that extra room for futile acquaintances; in fact, he very subtly lashed out at Bucky for allowing his family to set their staff in small bedrooms behind the kitchen when he had such luxuries. Bucky, head hanging low at the empty breakfast table, explained that even if he had Sam's revolutionary momentum and eloquence, his parents would never listen. 'I'm actually the last person who could change their entitled, outdated mentality', was the exact finishing sentence.

Sam once again got that sour reminder that he had to portray something for Bucky's parents. He had to pretend to be okay with the way Winnifred spoke to the maid through hand gestures instead of polite _words_. He had to pretend to act like he knew what the hell those big New York impresarios were talking about during the first tray of appetizers. Hell, he didn't even know that appetizers came in successions and that those successions were called 'trays', until now.

Most importantly, and at the moment Sam was standing in that big yard with freshly cut grass and a lake view, he had to pretend to belong. He had to walk among senior citizens with more money than they could spend in the few years they had left, young folk who looked like they had too much access to their daddy's bank accounts, and women who spoke exactly like Winnifred, as if different tones or voice inflexions belonged to a lesser class. Sam had to meet them all, and he had to act like he didn't feel as foreign as he'd ever felt.

"You're a saint, Sam." Bucky sneaked up on him and spoke in his ear, standing behind the lost man, "You can stop greeting wealthy dinosaurs now."

Sam realized he had done more than what was asked of him, and so, he dropped his shoulders in retreat. He turned around and gifted Bucky one tired smile.

"You okay?" the latter grabbed his shoulder tenderly, with concern, "This was too much, wasn't it? You should've called in sick like I-"

"I'm not traumatized by rich people, Bucky." Sam rolled his eyes, "I'm dating you, 'member?"

The verb caught Barnes by surprise, until he immediately remembered he meant the farce they were putting up for the family. However, during that millisecond of doubt, it felt like Sam was implying something with a double meaning that Bucky wasn't entirely sure disturbed him. In other words, he felt like Sam was flirting, but obviously, he was quickly reminded of the situation.

"I was just thinking what my mama would have said in a place like this." Sam confessed with a soft laughing tone.

The image was pretty funny. In the few times Bucky had spent time with Darlene, he was overly captivated by her strong personality. She was so caring, just like her son, but patience and subtlety weren't her strong suit.

"She would have been so... justifiably rude to all of them." Bucky dared to guess.

Sam chuckled, "Yeah."

"Would've ruined the mood for everybody." Bucky joined in the loud laughter.

The two were still smiling to themselves when Bucky's mom and Rebecca approached them, both holding cocktails in their hand.

"Whatcha talking about, lovebirds?" Rebecca teased them.

As much as she knew she couldn't raise the curtain to their farce, out of love for her brother, but also because engaging in a hassle like that one would take her out. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make this the most annoying family holiday Bucky had ever had.

"Mind your business." He replied dryly.

"James." The sibling’s mother reprimanded Bucky’s rudeness.”

"I was just messing around, ma’am." Sam jumped in his defense, effectively stopping the potential fight. "I'm not used to so much... elegance."

"You mean all these old and dull people in fancy clothes?" the woman suggested her own disappointment regarding her guests, and nodding happily when she noticed Sam’s surprised grin. "Trust me, lots of us have a hard time adjusting to them."

"Some of us think we shouldn't adjust, but the other way around." Rebecca reproached, which earned her a single head tilt from her _less confrontational_ mother.

Wilson took the opportunity to be the lovable, polite boyfriend, "Are you having trouble with these men too, Ms. Barnes?" he asked with a gracious smile that accentuated his cheekbones.

"I wouldn't call it trouble." She, expectedly, diminished her statement to avoid being interpreted as discontent.

Rebecca gave up on the eye-rolling to start using an annoyed, distant glare. As much as she had always been closest to her mother than Bucky ever had been, their ways of dealing with their life and other people were very different, along with their worldviews.

"They're bigots, big surprise." The young woman used a rude sarcastic tone, yet got no reaction from her Winnifred, who was now decided in de-aggravating the topic of conversation.

"Our friends tend to be on the conservative side.” She said before waving her hand in her own defense, “Don't get me wrong, I'm no liberal."

Bucky snorted, "No one was thinking that, mom."

Sam merely pressed his lips together in order to stop a smirk from becoming too visible.

"But lots of them are very behind time.” Winnifred continued nonetheless, “Treating their wives like _housemaids_ , interrupting _me_..."

The irony was so palpable, all three younger characters could barely conceal their own personalized expressions, which varied from shock to laughter, because Winnifred Barnes treated her housemaids like lesser humans and interrupted _everyone_. Sam gave Rebecca a look, which she replied with a nod that implied _‘I know’_. She then drew a zip line across her mouth for him to drop it.

It had also been Winnifred herself who stood _by_ George when Rebecca went to a Women's March with her friends and the married couple believed it to be 'too dangerous' because _who knows what kind of people can be in a march!_ Giving credit where credit was due, however, Winnifred had her daughter's back when a family friend grabbed her butt in her sixteenth birthday, and Rebecca, being the strongly voiced person that she’s always been, let everyone know ‘what kind of perverts his father hung out with’.

"Yes, they’re keen on the rich male supremacy around here.” Rebecca sighed, unable to keep listening to her mom pretend to know what she was talking about, and willing to change the subject to go back to bullying her brother, “It's a _bummer_. So, guys..."

"Oh." Winnifred suddenly said, fixating her eyes on something in particular, past her company.

"What?"

The three followed Winnifred’s view and found a man most of them recognized perfectly. The dark hair gelled back, the expensive but tasteless clothes, and the way he stood his ground like he owned it. It was a look that had once enamored Bucky, but it seemed more like a horrible nightmare right now.

As soon as Sam noticed James’ breath hitch and his face freeze, Sam knew that it was Brock Rumlow. He had only seen the devil through social media pictures, and he wasn’t very recognizable from afar, but the reaction it brought Bucky was hard to miss.

Apparently, Rebecca was even more upset than Sam about the man’s presence.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" she let out with deep rage.

"Rebecca!" her mother prioritized the lady’s manners over the downright astonishing situation.

Rebecca ignored it, "Who invited him?" she whisper-shouted.

"I believe it was your uncle Teddy.” As soon as the woman realized everyone’s stare in reaction to her nonchalant way of speaking, she placed a hand on her son’s arm, “He didn't know, James. What was he supposed to do? Un-invite him?"

"I'm lost. Why is he here?" Sam cut in.

"Oh, don’t worry about him, Samuel!” She gave him a very inappropriate smile for the occasion, “He's a family friend. His father and George are business buddies."

Sam realized he had missed a big part of the information. He knew Bucky had met Rumlow through family contacts, and that they have known of each other’s existence for a couple of years before they actually got to know each other. What he had no idea of, was the close relationship between the Barnes and Rumlow fathers. Had he known, he would have expected the ex-boyfriend to show up, but judging by his fake boyfriend’s state, Bucky wasn’t expecting it either. Probably because he was underestimating Brock’s maliciousness and hoping he wouldn’t invade his space.

Sam spoke directly to Bucky, using a calming tone, "You wanna go somewhere else?" he offered an out.

Unfortunately, before Bucky could reply, Rumlow saw him and began walking directly to him.

Bucky took a sharp breath, "Too late now."

Nobody said a word until Brock joined them.

"Ma'am.” He politely nodded in Winnifred’s direction, then turned to his former partner with a false smile, “ _James_. Care for a walk?"

Bucky knew he was speaking a lot more formally than usual, because Winnifred was there. Care for a walk was just a fancy way of spitting out ‘let’s talk’, and Bucky despised that offer with every fiber of his being, but he wasn’t able to respond. His tongue was tied. He clenched his jaw, feeling powerless, and was rescued by Sam, who extended his hand.

"Samuel Wilson.” He gave Brock a big, play-pretend grin, “And you are...?"

It wasn’t a surprise that Rumlow was being rude, as he had been ignoring Sam and Rebecca’s presence like they weren’t even there.

"Brock Rumlow." He shook the man’s hand.

When Sam dropped his hand away from Rumlow’s, he took Bucky’s in his, as a painfully obvious demonstration of their romantic involvement. Brock lowered his eyes towards the intertwined fingers and bit the inside of his cheek, before nodding with a partially amused expression on his face.

"I take it you're..." Brock tempted, earning an affirmative look from Sam, "And I take it you know who I am."

Wilson tilted his head, "You just told me, you're _Brock_."

"This doesn't have to be awkward.” The unwelcome man smiled, glancing at Winnifred to make sure she approved of his manners, but even she kept looking away, “We both know James and I-"

"Look, Brock.” Wilson cut him off, “Nobody here really cares. Do you care, love?" He asked Bucky.

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at Sam’s successful act, "Irrelevant." He agreed.

"Unless... it matters to you, Brock.” Sam frowned sadly, putting up the most condescending act he had ever pulled, “In that case, I'm sorry if this is painful."

If looks could talk, Rumlow’s would have stated a very easy ‘fuck you’.

"We'll see ourselves out, actually. Nice to meet you." He said, then turned away.

Bucky gifted his ex a fake host smile, "Have a good one."

As soon as the couple went back inside the house, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He murmured grateful words as the noise of the gathering outside became muffled, and Sam squeezed his hand, which he was still holding. As a matter of fact, they didn’t let go of each other for a while.

-

"I brought us some food." Sam announced when he reached the top of the stairs.

Bucky had hid himself in the small living room which welcomed guests to the second floor. He was sitting on the couch, watching crappy TV, avoiding the large amount of people talking downstairs.

"You sneaked lunch up here?" He asked with surprise.

"Yes, Bucky, I stole two plates of crab risotto and an apple sorbet.” Sam mocked his naivety with sarcasm, “I made sandwiches in the kitchen, you doofus."

Bucky usually felt _less_ than Sam at many things. Sam was smarter, he was resilient, he was hardworking and he was happier than him, most of the times. Seeing Sam in his messed up world only fomented that, because Sam was a fish out the water among the Barnes and their guests, and still, he glowed brighter. He was better than anyone Bucky had grown up with, and certainly better than himself. That’s why Sam had probably asked the kitchen staff if he could bother them for a second while he made two sandwiches, and he probably talked to them the entire time, and he probably let them speak longer than he did because he didn’t want to seem rude.

Bucky just knew that’s what he had done, while, if he were by himself, he probably would have skipped lunch and snacked on leftovers later, when no one was looking.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he sighed, receiving the plate Sam had prepared him.

The appreciation made Sam feel fuzzy. As much as he loved helping Bucky because he was his best friend, he never wanted Bucky to depend on his help. And yet, this time, he liked the idea of being needed by him.

He shook off the idea and sat on the couch, "That's a good question."

"I think God sent you when he saw how shitty everyone else in my life is."

Wilson laughed, shifting closer to Bucky’s and taking a big bite of his sandwich.

"Becca ain't so bad.” He remarked with his mouth full, “She comes around eventually."

"Yeah, she does." James agreed, thinking of how protective the young woman had become as soon as she saw the man who hurt her brother.

"You ever get tired of getting all your parents' shit when you watch her get away with stuff?"

Bucky shrugged. "I'd do anything for her. And they already see me a certain way, might as well protect her from that."

Wilson smiled to him, a warm sensation taking over his chest, "You're really good to her."

As much as Barnes wanted to take the compliment, the exchange had become too intimate, and if there was one thing Bucky had been rejecting during the whole boyfriend act, was intimacy between them. He feared he might get confused.

"You trying to pamper me, Wilson?" he bumped Sam’s shoulder playfully.

The latter rolled his eyes, and they went back to the TV show on screen while they ate. A few minutes later, something was twirling around Sam’s head so heavily, that he had to speak out.

"Hey, uh... A bit of- a really foggy bit of what I said when I was blacked out might have come back to me." He told Bucky, avoiding eye-contact.

James knew exactly what that was. Sam had just seen Rumlow for the first time, which brought back a very specific part of the conversation they both had, but only Bucky remembered.

"You remembered shitting on Brock?" he raised an eyebrow, amused.

"I mean, I'm not sure, but I bet I didn't have anything nice to say about him."

"Nothing you hadn't said before." Bucky lied.

Sam most certainly had said some things about the ex-boyfriend that he had been keeping to himself, and only had the guts to let out while blackout drunk.

They sat back and switched the channels, finding a better movie to watch, ignoring the lunch party completely. Eventually, Bucky found himself laying on Sam's chest, sort of sided, but he was too comfortable to move away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this series is originally posted on tumblr: asgardianthot


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i forgot to post this

**Day 3.**

The morning had prepared for the happy couple an hour of kayaking. Bucky got his tired ass to the lake with the least amount of motivation possible, for he had spent a sore night. The idea of Brock Rumlow spending the night in that house had his bones rattling. Sam, on his part, couldn’t blame him; Brock only stayed there when the two were an item, so the fact that he was tagging along indefinitely had ‘ill intentioned’ written all over it. Bucky’s theory was that Brock probably thought he was gonna crash the lunch party and win him over again, stay the night at their old bed instead of a small guest room downstairs.

On the bright side of matters, Sam and Bucky were still the only ones to have a hunting clue. The envelope that had fallen out of the Viktor Frankl book had a hand-written note, specifically placed there by Nana. It read as following: _If you found this clue, congratulations, you have a brain._ _Frankl was more than just a man in search for meaning: he was a neurologist and a psychiatrist, as well as a philosopher. It’s not hard to guess why my husband was obsessed with him. Now find out more about the author and try to guess **what else** he and Theodore had in common. You’ll know where to look._

Those words meant absolutely nothing to Sam, but it made some sense to Bucky. All they had to do was research about the author of the book and find a connection, for now. The rest would be a problem for later.

Right now, meaning at that very exact moment, Sam’s problem was kayaking.

“Okay, so what now?” he asked Bucky, holding the paddles like they were going to hurt him.

The second the word ‘kayak’ had been brought up when discussing future activities, Sam knew he would make a fool out of himself, for it was something he had never done, while the rest of the guests had been practicing every summer since they bought the damn house. Still, he put on his swimsuit and showed up. For Bucky. They were the ones closest to the lakeside, as Bucky was still teaching Sam, meanwhile the other Barnes were already paddling away or messing around in circles, as they prepared for a race.

“Now, you kayak.” Bucky replied simply, which earned a death glance from Sam.

He was already having enough trouble adjusting to the new sport, which left him with little to no patience. Fortunately, Bucky pitied him and laughed as he moved to the front seat, agreeing to help.

“Okay, wait,” he grunted as he struggled to accommodate behind Sam, “let me help you.”

Sam felt the warm pressure of Bucky’s chest against his back without any type of warning, and flinched a little. He could feel the drops of water that hadn’t dried out in Bucky’s skin stick to his own, and it sent shivers down his spine. He decided to believe the shivers were caused by the startling feeling of water droplets.

“You’re holding it wrong.” James explained as he took the paddles from Sam’s hand.

Wilson rolled his eyes, “Of course I am.”

“Someone’s cranky.” Bucky remarked, “Didn’t sleep well?”

Sam thought hard about that one. As a matter of fact, he had woken up plenty of times during the night, only to find Bucky struggling to catch his own sleep next to him. The situation was weird as it was, so Sam pretended to miss it.

“You kick your feet a lot.” Sam lied.

“There’s always the divan.” Bucky reminded him.

“Will you shut up about the damn divan? No one should sleep in anything called like that.”

However, the ridiculous discussion came to an end when Bucky managed to get Sam to paddle correctly.

“That’s about the hang of it.” he congratulated him before turning his body and dropping it into the water.

The water barely reached his chest, so he stood there in waits for Sam who accomplished his goal of successfully kayaking away.

“Now come back to me.” Bucky instructed his apprentice, “Turn.”

Watching him swirl the canoe so concentrated, Bucky couldn’t help but find him slightly adorable. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen Sam learn something like that before, but it definitely was a good look on him. A smile creeped up his face, however, it didn’t last long. Soon enough, his ears picked up on a conversation behind him. He saw that uncle Milo was talking to Brock, and he only then figured they probably had been the entire time, which made him feel observed and, most of all, uncomfortable. Bucky was so distracted by the interaction that he almost didn’t see Sam returning to him, but he noticed right on time to stop the tip of the kayak before it hit him.

He shook it off by shooting a smile in Nana’s direction.

“Sure you don’t wanna hop in the water, Nana?” he messed with the woman who looked over everyone from her chair.

“I want another drink, sweetheart.” She messed with him back.

Bucky winked at her and returned his attention to the fake boyfriend, who seemed a lot more comfortable with the sport. They most likely wouldn’t win the race, but at least Sam wouldn’t feel bad for sucking at it.

“You know what?” Nana’s voice was loud and clear this time, which got everyone’s attention, “First one to get me a drink gets a clue."

The bold statement was followed by hesitant glances. Most of the family exchanged weird looks, none of them sure of how to proceed.

"Is she for real?" Bucky said, frowning.

Then, cousin Colin jumped to the water from where he was paddling, and started swimming towards land. Rebecca went second. Bucky and Sam were quick to notice how they were the ones closest to the lakeside, which didn’t make it seem like Nana was unbiased. If anything, it made the couple look like the favorites. Alas, Bucky and Sam climbed onto land fast, hearing people rush across the water behind them, until they heard a scream.

As they both turned towards the noise, they saw Rebecca slapping her hand around, swallowing water, and barely managing to yell the word ‘cramp’.

Bucky dove back on the water to save her. Literally. As Sam awaited kneeling on the shore, he couldn’t help but notice nobody else went to help. As usual, Bucky was Rebecca’s knight in shining armor.

"Rebecca, are you ok?" Winnifred barely asked above her usual tone to be heard.

The siblings were too busy trying to stay afloat –Bucky dragging her to land and Rebecca coughing her lungs out– to answer, so the mother insisted.

"Rebecca?"

Luckily, Sam cut in to get the unhelpful and mediocre concern away from the scene, "She- she's fine! We got this!" he assured the woman.

Once the siblings reached the wooden shore, Sam pulled Rebecca up by her arms while Bucky climbed up, panting. The young woman held her leg in pain.

Right on time, Brock approached them to save the day.

He extended his hand towards Rebecca, "Here, let me-"

"Get the fuck away from us!" James shot him an aggressive warning while placing a hand on Rebecca's back, not dignifying the man with eye contact.

Rumlow raised his hands in defense, "Just tryna’ help, Jamie."

The snap in Bucky’s brain might as well have been hearable. He was so done with the hovering figure he used to call his partner, everything in his head went red with fury. He looked up at him with such rage, Sam anticipated his outburst even before it happened.

"Shut up, Brock, shut up!” He yelled directly at him, microscopic bits of spit being thrown in Brock’s direction, and followed by a uncomfortable, still silence, which Bucky couldn’t stand either, “Are you deaf or are you a fucking idiot? I said leave!"

Rumlow accepted the offense and shook his head, putting on a disappointed façade.

"You're insane." He informed Bucky before turning on his heels.

As the man walked back inside the house, the spectators of the show remained silent. All that could be heard was Bucky’s heavy breathing, until Rebecca spoke.

"Way to go, brother." She whispered, which was only heard by Sam and Bucky.

Bucky’s expression revealed how shocked he was at his own courage to pull off such a stunt.

"That felt so good." He admitted, drawing a big proud smile on Sam’s face.

-

The outburst that morning, no matter how fulfilling, had taken a toll on Bucky. The rest of the day, it was all he could think about, and therefore, it naturally got the paranoid spinning wheel in his brain running at full speed. Cousin Colin, after the lake scene, was the only person insensitive enough to actually go through with Nana’s demand; the man had brought his grandmother a nice summer drink from the kitchen, which the lady received with a roll of her eyes. Unfortunately, she _had_ promised the deliverer a clue, so she reluctantly kept her word and gave him the help in private.

It didn’t necessarily worry Bucky nor Sam, because the couple still felt they were winning so far. They had found the first clue by themselves, no help needed, so the best Colin could do was keep up with them before they got the advantage again.

No, what had them both worried was this cocktail gathering after dinner, right now. It was too early for anyone to be tired enough to go to bed, but it was late enough for people to start making bad decisions. That had been Bucky’s case. Drink after drink, worry after worry, the liquor had found its way into Bucky’s system long ago. In fact, he was sitting down, resigned to his sorrow, with a glass of champaign in hand.

He was wasted, and Sam could tell. While Bucky played around with the almost emptied glass, Sam’s chest felt heavy.

"He's watching." Bucky suddenly said, his enunciation already affected by the booze.

His eyes were fixated somewhere in the room, over Sam’s shoulder. The latter didn’t need to turn around to know who he meant.

"Don't pay attention to him." He shrugged it off.

"He used to do that,” Bucky, however, acted as if Sam hadn’t even spoken, “when he didn't approve of something."

"Hey.” Sam called, demanding his attention, “Hey, look at me. I'm here with you, okay? Not him."

As much as Bucky wanted to lean into those words, embrace the support and such, he knew it wasn’t truly real. Sam was there to help him out of _pity_ , or so he thought. He used to love imagining having a boyfriend who would take away the pain, wipe away the tears caused by Brock. He used to like that image, but sometime in the horrible long-lasting relationship, he just didn’t think it possible. Anyone loving him after Brock? Anyone putting up with that baggage, with the lurking ex-boyfriend watching them at all times?

It simply wouldn’t happen. It’s why he wasn’t there with an actual boyfriend. It’s why he had to play-pretend with Sam. In his head, there was no place for anyone to love him. Not after he’d been chewed on by Rumlow and spat out a hundred times.

"But you're not.” Bucky sad dryly, almost insulting, “Not really. I'll never get the real thing."

Sam’s brain had a hard time with that one confession. Did Bucky mean that getting his friend to play _fake boo_ was the closest he'd ever get to a boyfriend from now on? Or as he implying a world where Sam _could_ have become the real deal? His confusion left him almost speechless.

"And why is that?" he managed to ask with a heavy heart.

Bucky was too quick in answering Sam’s doubts, "Cause I'm messed up. 'Cause of him."

That being declared, James stood up from the table, leaving his company sitting there by himself, rudely. Sam watched him get to the bar, which consisted of a few tables set up for drink service, attended by one of Nana’s kitchen employees. It did the trick in looking fancy enough for an improvised bar, and still, Bucky managed to look fairly pathetic, leaning on the table and ordering yet another hard liquor.

For the next half hour, Sam brought himself to chat and interact with the Barnes, but mostly, he was checking up on Bucky every other minute. Fortunately so, since it allowed him to spot Rumlow as he approached the drunk figure. Wilson excused himself and headed straight for the bar, and was noticed by the man who looked, as usual, like he was up to no good.

"Samuel, we were just talking about you." Brock greeted him cynically.

"Leave him alone." Sam said, not messing around.

Bucky’s eyes were fixated on his drink, avoiding exchanging gazes with his ex, no matter how hard Brock tried to catch his attention.

"I don't think anyone should leave him alone like _this_." Rumlow cocked a brow, giving off the most pedantic posture yet.

As much as Sam didn’t wish to sound just as condescending as the ex-boyfriend, he needed him to back off. So he stood his ground, planting himself in front of Bucky, and raised his chin.

"Oh, _goodie_ , that's what _I'm_ here for." He clarified with a taunting tone.

All of a sudden, Bucky decided to stand his ground as well. Unhappy with the exchange of words about his state, he got himself in front of Sam, stumbling a bit.

"I don't- don't need anyone to look after me." He managed to croak out, frowning.

After he delivered the words, he propped himself on the table unsteadily, causing Sam to gesture catching him, but Bucky seemed to be partially alright on his own. Brock, on his part, gave him a deeply disappointed look. Suddenly, Sam understood _so much_ ; the paternalistic vibe he gave off, like you’re nothing for yourself and are in desperate need of his aid. The way Rumlow judged people could get anyone to doubt themselves. Luckily, Sam wasn’t giving in.

Brock extended his hand to the more-than-tipsy man, "Come on." He said, more a demand than an offer.

The response was even more abrupt than that morning by the lake. In sight of his hand so near him, Bucky’s paranoia crippled through his bones, provoking a different kind of outburst.

"Don't touch me, you fucking maniac!" he yelled, taking a step back.

Sam’s skin crawled. During the tense silence that followed, he felt eyes staring at them three. Brock, however, didn’t seem nearly as shocked, but instead acted like this was just _typical Bucky_. He did seem embarrassed, though, being the victim of the scandal for the second time that day.

"Let's go." Sam pleaded, not daring to touch Bucky in a jumpy state like that.

That was Rebecca’s cue for approaching the lot, allured by the fuzz.

"What's going on?" she demanded an explanation in a low, but harsh tone.

"Nothing.” Rumlow spoke before anyone else got the change, “He's making a scene, as usual."

Rebecca shot him a threatening glance, to which he simply rolled his eyes and abandoned the bar area. Sam took his place in order to check up on Bucky’s face, and found his eyes beginning to water. He was frozen in place, eye sockets reddened by the drunkenness and lips caught between his teeth.

"James, get it together.” Rebecca whispered, “Everyone's staring."

Although Sam was expecting more comfort from the man’s sister, whom just so happened to be scolding him for no reason, he kept his quiet this time. The two sober characters dragged Bucky’s body to the nearest chair and forced him to sit down, which only attracted more attention towards him, but that way he could remain still and far from tumbling scandals.

"Get him some coffee before he embarrasses himself even more." Rebecca told Sam, sternly.

As she kneeled sat next to her brother in order to pretend normality, Sam just gave her a look of disbelief. He didn’t think she could act so heartlessly before.

"You're a real sweetheart, you know that?" he threw her a sarcasm dagger, refusing to move.

"Believe it or not, I'm helping him.” She spat, looking around frantically in hopes no one was judging them, “Coffee, Samuel, please."

Sam took one last good look at Bucky before obeying the very persuasive sister. The drunken mess was avoiding all sorts of eye contact, and was almost pouting like a child. Wilson didn’t have much else to do but get himself to the kitchen, although reluctantly. At that moment, he hated everything; every person and light were getting under his skin, and even the sound of glasses clinking together pissed him off. Right before he reached the kitchen, the sound turned muffled, abandoned far away, and there was a sense of peace. Silence. And breaking through that silence, there was a sharp voice.

“I’m telling you, this is our chance.” The voice echoed from inside the kitchen.

It was unmistakably Rumlow’s. _Of fucking course_. The man was a goddamn ghost lurking around every room of the massive house. Sam was determined on turning back, until he heard another voice responding.

“Give me a few days-“

“I don’t have days to give you.”

It sounded like an altercation that had just recently began, right before it could get too heated.

“Is your lawyer _not_ your personal bitch this time?” the other man accused Brock, “You not screwing him, too?”

“You want the money, right?”

The inciting question was followed by a tense pause. Therefore, Sam seized his chance and walked into the kitchen, hopefully being able to pretend he hadn’t heard any of it. He recognized the other man as uncle Milo, when the two angry men straightened themselves too quickly, in an attempt to dismiss their previous altercation.

Sam gave them an uninterested glance, “Am I interrupting?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What can we do for you, Samuel?” uncle Milo raised his voice with false friendliness.

“I’m just gonna make some coffee.” He replied, waltzing towards the busier side of the kitchen, further away from them.

Before he could even get a hold of the coffee maker, Rumlow’s forceful interruption made Sam stop in his tracks.

“Nicole can take care of that for you, right darling?” he called for the maid in a patronizing tone, “She’ll even pour it for you and everything.”

Sam glanced at the woman who was still putting the dishes away when it definitely was the end of her shift. It wasn’t just about Rumlow’s treatment of the staff, it was everything, from the way he put Sam in an uncomfortable situation, to the smirk on his face while doing so.

“No thank you, I got it.” Sam told the working lady.

“Actually, she’s got it,” Brock insisted, this time much more taunting, “that’s her _job_.”

Sam found himself cornered, and resigned, although not without showing his discontent. He pinched the bridge of his nose and agreed tiredly.

“Fine, uh… Can you just take it up to James’ room when you get the chance?” He forced a smile in Nicole’s direction, whom nodded politely, “Thank you.”

When he was leaving to return to Bucky, Sam took a turn on his heels at the last minute. His blood still boiling, he gave the two plotting men a small but clearly exaggerated reverence.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.” He let uncle Milo know his anger wasn’t directed towards him, then spoke directly to Rumlow, “ _Fuck you_ , Brock.”

“Classy.” The appellee complained.

“You’re right.” He lied, then turned to the maid one more time, “Nicole, my apologies for such rudeness. On behalf of Mr. Rumlow, of course. I guess money _can’t_ buy decency.”

After addressing that last insult to the obnoxious man, Wilson headed back to the cocktail gathering in order to retrieve his drunk friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of abuse
> 
> In case it’s unclear, the flashback in the second half is what happened the night of the first chapter, when Sam invited Bucky over to help him with his financial problems and such, and he ended up getting drunk and being dragged to bed (when Sam asked if he said anything stupid, Bucky LIED and said no)

When they reached their bedroom, Bucky let go of Sam’s grip, softly enough so that Sam would know he wasn’t tumbling from mere drunkenness. Even though he did tumble a bit on his way to the bed. Meanwhile, Sam closed the door and turned to aid his friend.

"I'm fine, Sam.” Bucky reassured him as he sat on the edge of the mattress, “Just wasted, 's all."

Sam, however, was determined to look after him, "Sit." He ordered.

James nodded with acceptance and took a breath, feeling the alcohol wash away and making room for sleepiness. Almost immediately, a knock was heard on the door, to which Sam checked to see if Bucky looked decent enough, in case they had to deal with any family members.

“Who is it?” Sam asked before opening.

He was relieved to hear a female voice which belonged to the maid, Nicole.

“I brought your coffee.” Her statement sounded more like a question.

Sam let go of the breath he was holding and received the platter, not without before thanking her with a kind smile. He waited until she had left to shut the door for good; the next person to come knocking would be met with them pretending to be asleep. Neither Sam nor Bucky were in the mood to withstand more judgement, but especially Sam wasn’t in the mood to deal with any other Barnes than the one in that room.

Sam offered the mug to Bucky, "You still want it?”

Yet the man made a grimace before rubbing his left eye, letting Sam know he was sleepy now and was in no need of sobering up through caffeine. It was better to just go to bed. When Sam put the mug away, James laid back on the bed with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he felt Sam’s hand taking off his shoes.

"Thanks." Bucky said in a hoarse, almost embarrassed tone.

Once Sam finished taking off the drunk man’s shoes off, he tossed them aside and sat on his butt, groaning with tiredness. What his eyes spoke to Bucky was uncertain, but there was a clear hint of disappointment. Sam didn’t mean to, but his entire body was rejecting the patience he tended to have for his buddy.

"What's got you so jumpy, dude?" Sam finally spat out what was in his preoccupied mind.

From the bed, Bucky looked down to the man on the floor and saw concern. Love. Someone who cared, and Bucky’s every fiber rejected the possibility of giving into it. He put up a big emotional wall between them and proceeded to fake disinterest. He scoffed, rubbed his sleepy eyes again and began looking up at the ceiling with nothingness dwelling in his eyes.

He shrugged and spoke as if it was nothing, "You know what's got me jumpy."

It had to do with Brock, obviously, and he didn’t feel like discussing the sensitivities of the past relationship right now. But Sam knew his friend and he knew he had never seen him react that defensive to anyone before. So aggressive, and excessively responsive. Sam wasn’t an idiot.

"No, I don't.” Sam replied sternly, “I know he's an asshole, and he's manipulative, and he's horrible, but I think there's more. And I really want you to tell me, if that's okay."

The way Sam phrased it, Bucky knew he already suspected the answer. There was no use hiding it, and he felt like lying about it would turn the whole situation into a bigger deal. There was no deceiving Samuel Wilson.

He bit the inside of his cheek, concealing his disgust, and replied in a monotone, "He kicked my ass, okay?"

Sam frowned, but his friend couldn’t see him.

"He what?"

Bucky sighed loudly. No matter how hard he tried to derail the subject, he knew he had to tell the details. He was finally giving in, and he hated it.

"I was... walking out that door for the last time, you know, he said he was tired of me leaving and coming back.” He turned his head to avoid facing his friend before continuing, “So he- whatever, he sort of... yanked my hair and stuff.”

The silence that followed gave room for Sam to believe there was more.

“Kicked me.” Bucky completed the details, then cleared his throat in an attempt to get rid of the knot in his throat, “Like I said, he kicked my ass."

"That's a big deal, Bucky,” Sam stated, his eyes big and apprehensive, and filled with an indiscernible mix of negative feelings, “that's abuse."

"So, it was. What'd you care?"

As much as Sam knew, deep down, that Bucky was speaking out of mere rejection of his own feelings, he couldn’t help but feel offended at the assumption that he could _not_ _worry_ about it.

"Because _I care_.” He raised his voice with disbelief, “God, of course I do, how _couldn't_ I?"

He gained no response from James. In the midst of the horrific news, Sam had to remind himself of the fact that the man was still wasted, therefore he couldn’t ask too much of him. Sam wanted to know more, he wanted to have a real heart-to-heart, he wanted to go downstairs and smash a glass to Brock’s smug and damage his face permanently. Instead, he steadied himself, somehow. It took him a few long and difficult seconds to gather his calm, but he managed to do so.

He stood up and went to the bathroom to put on his pajamas. He seized the walk to throw Bucky his pajama pants, not too gently. The last thing he saw before shutting the bathroom door was Bucky’s inaccurate hand grabbing the item from the other side of the bed. When Sam came back from brushing his teeth, he saw Bucky in pajama bottoms and shirtless, passed out on his belly.

During the half hour to follow, Sam tried to catch some sleep, but his mind was elsewhere. More agonizingly long minutes passed, and all he could think about was that he would be too tired at the hunt the next day, which made him think of the Barnes and their guests, which made him think of Brock and how much he wanted to kill him for hurting Bucky.

Eventually, he heard choked noises coming from the man he was giving his back to, and later he realized that those noises were sobs. He turned and saw Bucky, curled up on himself, also giving Sam his back and trembling slightly as he failed to conceal his own crying.

"Buck." Sam called softly.

"I'm sorry.” He replied, his voice cracking, “I'm sorry for everything, for bringing you here, asking for money, _fuck_ , I'm sorry for being your friend."

The final statement broke Sam’s heart even more than the sound of Bucky’s sobs. He placed one hand on the side of his torso, where his ribs contracted at the rhythm of his hectic breathing and attempted to calm him, mostly by telling him a comforting truth.

"Don't say that, man. I love you." He reminded his friend.

"You shouldn't.” James denied it, “God, I'm a mess, I drag everyone into my shit, and now I dragged _you_. You- you don't deserve this."

"Hey.” Sam interrupted, “You got some issues, doesn’t mean you're not a lost cause."

"No, but I am.” Bucky’s pitch dropped an octave, managing to express more sorrow and certainty than before, “Not even Brock fucking Rumlow could handle me, he said I was so-“ a hiccup cut his words short, “so damaged that... that not even he- _he_ could stand me."

"He was manipulating you."

"I know, but he's right!” his own words surprised him, and they truly cut like knives, “I'm such a fucking-“

"Hey." Sam cut him off, hugging him from behind.

"I'm-"

"You're my best friend, remember?” He said sweetly, “You're a great guy. And I'm a great guy, so I know what I'm talking about."

Barnes shook his head, "No."

"Just let me hold you, dude."

At the sound of that, Bucky’s breathing calmed a little, realizing there was no convincing Sam of his own self-flagellating thoughts. Sam believed he was good, and perhaps, only perhaps, it gave Bucky a tiny bit of hope. He eventually loosened next to Sam’s embrace, and they accommodated themselves in a cuddle. Sam ran his thumb up and down Bucky’s naked shoulder, as a reminder that he was there.

"You're okay.” Sam whispered soothingly, “You're dealing with stuff. We'll manage."

 _We_. Bucky couldn’t help but warm up at the thought of a ‘we’.

"Thank you.” Bucky croaked, then swallowed with difficulty, “For everything."

Silence and calm being insured, they slept like that, cuddling until morning came.

-

**A few weeks ago. The night before.**

“Okay, Professor Wilson, you got homework to grade tomorrow.” Bucky groaned humorously as he struggled to hold Sam’s weight on his feet.

The wine they had poured for themselves was long gone, but its disappearance was, at least, ninety percent Sam’s fault. While Bucky’s senses were untouched, even though _he_ was the one whose life was falling apart because of his miserable living situation, Sam seized the opportunity to get absolutely wasted nonetheless, leaving the task of getting his ass to bed in Bucky’s hands.

While Bucky found his friend’s drunk state amusing, leading his tumbling body to the bedroom turned out to be harder than he thought. Sam’s entire weight relied on Bucky’s upper body strength, not to mention his resistance to being babied.

“N’a don’t.” Sam protested.

“Well, you’re drunk.” Bucky sighed.

Sam’s lips curled into a smile and he directed his wine-smelling breath directly towards Bucky’s face, almost taunting him, “ _Yes’am._ ” He slurred.

Bucky looked the other way with exasperation before bettering his grip on Sam’s unstable body, losing his patience.

“Come on, man, help me out.” He complained.

Finally, the two managed to cross the door to Sam’s bedroom, and being so close to dropping the dead weight on its bed, Bucky started realizing how tired his own arms were.

“You hittin’ the gym or something?” he mocked, almost out of breath, “Why do you weigh ten times more than the last time I did this?”

“Mmm-maybe I put on _old man fat_.” Sam said in a grumpy tone, “Like an _old man_.”

Barnes rolled his eyes while taking a breath to recover his physical strength, “You’re not an old man.”

As soon as he let Sam’s body fall dead on the mattress, Bucky sighed with contempt, yet went back to his babysitting task by leaning down, hovering over Sam’s face.

“Hey.” Bucky put on a stern, yet not serious voice as he pointed a finger at his friend, “I hope you remember this tomorrow, ‘cause I’m about to drop some knowledge, okay?”

Sam’s lost expression didn’t change though, “M’kay.” He mumbled.

“You’re not old.” James began, “You’re a youthful, incredibly handsome man, and any woman would be lucky to have you.”

The hyping words caused Wilson to snort amusingly.

“I bet all of your students _drool_ over you but you’re too much of a good man to even notice.”

This time, they both laughed.

“I dunno…” Sam shook his head, his eyes not really focusing on anything.

“Say it with me. _I’m hot_.” Bucky demanded.

“’m hot.” The other repeated.

“I’m a catch.”

“I’m a catch!” He raised his voice with a deep, exaggerated tone, clearly concealing his laugh.

Bucky then squinted with amusement, “And I got a fine piece of ass.”

That got the last of Samuel, provoking him a loud chuckle that satisfied Bucky enough to decide his job as drunk-babysitter was completed.

“Alright, go to sleep, hot stuff.” He smiled and stood up straight.

Sam, however, stopped him before he could leave, “Wait. I got some knowledge, too.”

His words were difficult to pronounce, and even more when he struggled to sit. He gave up on trying and simply rested on a more upright position, supported by his forearms. Bucky watch him do his best effort and prepared for the drunk babbling that was certainly about to happen. He crossed his arms and was incapable of concealing his smile.

“Alright, go.” Bucky taunted him.

“You’ve _always_ … been too good for him.”

At the sound of that, Bucky’s smile dropped. He wasn’t expecting a serious chat, and less one about Rumlow. He didn’t know what to respond, and so Samuel went on.

“He’s not even that great, he’s just… so good at lying, he-he made you think he was.” He declared, frowning like he was trying to understand the injustice, “And you-you tried to…I dunno, see the good in him. ‘cause you do that, you find the good in people.”

Sam’s gaze lingered, focused on Bucky’s expression, but it didn’t seem like the drunkenness allowed him to process the fact that Bucky was neither content nor comfortable with the conversation. After a few seconds of silence, Bucky spoke in a cold, partially upset tone.

“Why would I do that?” He asked out of genuine curiosity for Sam’s insight on the matter.

“’Cause you’re good!” The man replied with an instantly escalading smile, definitely not reading the room, but entirely confident in his own words, “You’re the _goodest_ \- no, that’s not…” He stopped himself by laughing at his own made up word, finally catching on how unintelligent he sounded.

“Alright.” James cut him off dryly, “Time for bed.”

But Sam was too invested in conveying his strong opinions to his friend, so he barely even heard him.

“His hair is dumb.” He continued naming Brock’s flaws, “And he’s the dumbest guy alive for treating you like that. ‘Cause you, you… God, if I…? If _I_ had you-?”

Before he could stop stammering, Bucky raised his voice and interrupted him.

“Sam, go to sleep.”

Being too wasted to protest or even understand why Bucky was acting in such a way, Sam dropped his head down with exhaustion. He nodded in agreement of the fact that _he should_ go to sleep, and plopped on the pillow behind him.

Sam was too far gone to consider the weight of his words. But even if he was sober, he would never know to what extent what he was about to say would hurt Bucky. Because Bucky had considered it before, years ago. He had thought, in his darkest days, that if only Sam liked men, if only Sam dared to look Bucky’s way like something more than a friend, perhaps Bucky could have had a shot at real love. He fantasized, long ago, that Sam’s love would be a breath of fresh air, that Sam could teach him what respect and real care could mean.

In his brightest days, however, before Brock, he had felt something beautiful. There were no selfish reasons, no wishful thinking, simply… something. Bucky had felt something beautiful towards his best friend, something that made him think perhaps he was capable of _beautiful feelings_ , he was capable of loving selflessly. The problem was that if it ever came out into the light, and Sam found out, he wouldn’t reciprocate, and then Bucky would have risked everything. He decided, eventually, that Sam’s friendship was more important than his hope of becoming the kind of person who felt _beautiful love_.

That kind of confusion, Bucky hadn’t felt in years. Not since he shoved it all down his throat and pretended he had never even considered Sam as something other than just his best friend.

So, whatever Sam was about to say right there, Bucky refused to hear the end of that sentence.


End file.
